


You Know What They Say About Assumptions

by Brinker



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: F/M, First Time, Three Year Gap (Dragon Ball), Tropes, Virginity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-15
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2019-06-27 15:29:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15688245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brinker/pseuds/Brinker
Summary: Bulma thinks she has Vegeta figured out.  She has every intention of using her experience against him, but has she bitten off more than she can chew?





	You Know What They Say About Assumptions

Vegeta was a virgin.

Vegeta, stone cold killer, committer of genocides, most terrifying man Bulma had ever laid eyes on, had never known the touch of a woman. 

It was the only explanation that made any sense, the only reason she could fathom for how easily rattled he was by her gentle flirting. She wasn’t a lunatic or suicidal. She knew she shouldn’t be flirting with a sociopathic mass murderer in the first place, but it seemed to be her knee jerk reaction to overwhelming, paralyzing fear. The coy, occasionally bawdy, but mostly innocent words just poured out of her mouth before she even knew what she was saying. This same involuntary response was how Vegeta came to live at Capsule Corp in the first place. 

They had just arrived back on Earth after the ordeal that was Namek. Adrenaline was still pushing blood through her body at a dangerously rapid pace. He was just standing there, feet away from her, cool as a cucumber, as if he hadn’t threatened her life and the entire existence of her planet only weeks prior, and the words just tumbled out. She called him ‘cute’ and invited a serial killer into her home in the same breath. Once she had come down from her stress induced high and truly appreciated the consequences of her actions, she’d nearly given herself a brain aneurism. She had been beyond relieved when he took Capsule3 into space to look for Goku and prayed he wouldn’t find occasion to return.

But of course he had and, of course, he’d moved right back into her home as if he’d never left. He’d been gone for a year but time had done nothing to alleviate the panic she felt whenever he so much as glanced in her direction. There was only one thing she could do to keep herself from curling into the fetal positional whenever she was in his presence, and that was flirt.

When she watched his ship drop into her back yard only a few weeks ago, she’d nearly lost her lunch all over Yamcha and Krillin at the thought of facing him again. Instead, she found herself nose to nose with him, telling him he stank, and suggestively ordering him to bathe. She’d even had the audacity to dress him in the most garishly colored clothes she could find in Yamcha’s drawers, just to throw him off of his guard. She’d succeeded, in the moment anyway. She’d managed to make it through one harrowing ordeal after the next, between Frieza arriving on Earth and the dire warning of the boy from the future. But the control she’d wrestled from him didn’t last long. She still felt as if her heart was going to fall out of her butt every time she saw him.

So she would throw little nuggets of racy humor at him, comment on the tightness of his training shorts, dare him not to notice her bend over suggestively when she loaded the dishwasher or made repairs to the GR. Nothing overtly lecherous. Just enough to tip the balance of power back to her. It didn’t take much. A slight blush would spread across his cheeks, he would look at her as if she had sprouted horns, and then would leave the room, usually muttering to himself about what a ‘vulgar’ woman she was. 

And that was how she’d come to the conclusion that Vegeta was a virgin. It was the only way to explain how a man so dangerous could be so easily manipulated by a few saucy words from a weak little creature like herself. The more she thought about it, the more sense it made. She hadn’t seen any women among the throngs of Frieza’s soldiers on Namek, at least none that she could readily identify as female. She was sure there had to be women employed to the oldest profession out in the depths of space but Vegeta didn’t seem the type to engage in something so tawdry as paying for sex. That could only mean her innocent advances unnerved him because he had never experienced the attentions of a woman before. This revelation changed _everything_. She suddenly realized she was holding all the cards and could play them any way she liked.

Bulma could see that Vegeta was attracted to her. She’d yet to meet a man who wasn’t, but she seemed to have a particularly strong effect on him. It reminded her of the first time she encountered Yamcha in the desert. He’d been trying to rob her and she’d been scared out of her wits but, once she saw him stammering and stuttering and tripping over himself, she knew she had the upper hand. It was a thrill like nothing she had experienced before or since, the first time she recognized the power her body had over men that could otherwise crush her without a second thought. Once she had taken Yamcha to bed, it was all over. The once fearsome desert bandit had been her devoted puppy dog ever since… until recently anyway.

Unlike Yamcha, Vegeta hadn’t yet figured out he could easily turn the same power of persuasion on the opposite sex. He seemed totally oblivious to the effect he had on women, or at least on her. He would routinely amble about the house in his skin-tight shorts, no shirt, sweating and panting after his training. He would gulp down entire bottles of water in one go and was incapable of doing so without dribbling most of it down his front. It was a test of her endurance being forced to watch thin streams of liquid run down his chin, neck, sternum, through the meandering lines of his abdominals and finally settling into the deep v of his hips before disappearing below his waist band.

But the hot spring that formed in her panties whenever he was around did nothing to cull the overwhelming dread that he was moments away from snapping her neck. In fact, she suspected each sensation fed on the other. It was a rather sick dynamic and it was interfering with the precariously slim margin of dominance she’d established over him. It simply wouldn’t do and there was only one solution for it. She had to drum up the nerve to make good on all of the little solicitations she’d been casually sending him. She would be the one, the only one, to bring him all the pleasures he never knew existed in life. He would be besotted with her, indebted to her, and once she had him, she’d drag him behind her on a leash for as long as it suited her.

The only dilemma now was how to bend him without breaking him. His lack of experience meant she would have to tread lightly. If he were any other man, she would brazenly offer herself to him and rely on his lust to take care of the rest, but Vegeta would require more finesse on her part. She’d dreamed up a hundred different scenarios of how it would happen. She mapped it all out when she was alone at night, twisting on top of her sheets with her hands buried between her thighs. She would imagine the moment he would feel what she was feeling for the first time, the look of reverence and capitulation that would wash over his face. That thought, the idea of his total surrender to her, brought her more pleasure than her fingers ever could.

She decided on a setting, time and place. She would wait until he inevitably came to her with his newest training injury. She would have the first aid kit ready in her bedroom. She would sit him on the bed and tend to him, hold her hands against his skin, dip her chest towards his face, perhaps ‘accidentally’ brush up against his most sensitive areas. Then she would ask him a question.

“Vegeta, do you want me to make you feel good?”

And that’s how she’d found herself, on her knees before the galaxy’s most dangerous feral animal. Her hand still smelled of rubbing alcohol as she ran it over his bandaged calf and up his thigh, hovering there, waiting for his assent.

“…yes,” he whispered. It was the first soft word he’d ever spoken to her and it was all she needed.

“I’m going to kiss you now.” She didn’t know if he knew what a kiss was but that was why they were here, after all, so she could teach him.

She reached behind his neck and, with a tender but insistent hand, pulled his head down to meet hers. She brushed her lips against his, no pressure applied. Her tongue darted between her lips to lick his. She didn’t need to tell him what to do, his mouth opened instinctually to let her in. He made no further move to return the kiss but she took advantage, massaging his tongue with hers. She placed wet, half formed kisses across his impossibly sharp jaw, down his adams apple, and over each one of his hardened nipples. She paused there for a moment when she heard him gasp. He had sensitive nipples. This was going to be easier than she thought.

Her mouth trailed down his body to the place she’d been fantasizing about for weeks. He was already hard. She could clearly see the outline of him in his shorts. She hesitated for a moment. She almost didn’t want to take them off, afraid the reality of him could never live up to her imagination.

But before she could waste any more time on her fantasy she heard a huff of frustration above her and the shorts were removed without her insistence. He was getting the hang of this. His cock bobbed as it sprang free and hit his stomach just below his naval. She needn’t have worried. It far surpassed anything she could have conjured on her own.

She wrapped her hand around his thick base and paused for a few seconds before she began to stroke, careful not to jolt him into over stimulation. Everything she did from this point forward had to be precise and controlled. He was throbbing in her hand. She could see the twitch of the long vein running the underside of his shaft and the head beginning to glisten with pre cum.

“I’m going to put my mouth on you,” she cautioned. “If you don’t like it, you can tell me to stop.” She knew he wouldn’t.

She licked her desire plumped lips and pressed them against his tip, kissing, lightly sucking. She took her time sliding him into her mouth as far and as deep as she could manage. She kept one hand fisted at his root and slowly, ever so slowly, began to bob her head up and down, moving her hand in time with her mouth.

She heard him inhale sharply and felt his fingers thread through the blue waves at the crown of her head. She looked up at him, dying to see the submissive look on his face, the one she had brought herself off to so many nights in a row. His eyes were squeezed shut and his lips were slightly parted. He was close, but not there yet.

She continued to work him until his breaths came in shallow bursts. She was surprised he had lasted this long. Virgins weren’t known for their stamina. As much as she wanted to watch him, to taste him come in her mouth, she knew she couldn’t allow it. She wasn’t done with him yet.

She let him fall from her lips with an audible ‘pop’ and rose to her feet. She was still fully clothed and could see from his scowl just how much this irritated him. She unzipped her skirt and shimmied her hips until it fell to the floor, delicately unfastened each button down her blouse shrugging it from her shoulders, then reached behind her back and unfastened her lacy bra. He reached out to her tentatively but, before he could cup either one of her ample breasts, she crawled over him on the bed. She was looming over him, one hand on each side of his head, one knee planted on either side of his hips.

“Do you want to touch me, Vegeta?”

She was so close now. She could feel her victory at the tips of her fingers. All she had to do was move her soaking wet panties to the side, sink down onto him, and give him the most blindingly gratifying sensation he would ever know. And then she would have him. Except…

“Yes,” he growled through a self-satisfied smirk. 

He moved so fast, she didn’t even know how she ended up on her back. He was looking down at her with his knee between her legs, forcing them apart. She heard a snap and saw her pretty silk panties in his hand. He’d torn them clean off her body.

“Do you want me to make you feel good, woman?”

His eyes were sinister but he was grinning ear to ear. She felt a finger skim between her folds and her heart began to thump riotously. Fear clutched her insides as she realized she was no longer in control of this situation. She needed to run from the room, from her house, from the Earth and never come back. But she could feel the dizzying pull between fear and sex in the spot where he moved his finger and she could do nothing but rock her hips towards him.

“I’m going to put my mouth on you.” She received no further warning before he swiftly pulled her knees over his shoulders and dove between her legs, latching on to her clit and lapping wildly.

Oh no.

She had been wrong… so very wrong. This man was no novice. It was exquisitely, painfully clear now that he knew the female form like she knew quantum physics. He was playing her pussy like a well tuned instrument. He’d been playing her this entire time.

She squirmed on his face and begged for more. He looked up at her with that same sinister glare. He was in control and it made her want to die… but not before he made her come. He slipped one then two fingers into her pushing them in and out at just the right pace and just the right angle. He was an expert, a professional. How could she have been so stupid to think that Vegeta, literal sin made flesh, was a virgin.

“Don’t stop… ahn… don’t stop.”

She should have kept her mouth shut. As soon as she made her demand, he pulled away from her, shifted her legs down off of his shoulders. 

“I’m going to put my cock in that wet little cunt of yours now. If you don’t like it, you can tell me to stop,” he said, snickering at the turn of phrase.

And she should tell him to stop. She knew he’d only suggested it to mock her with her own words but, if she said it, she knew he would obey. That’s what this was supposed to be about, wasn’t it? Her teaching him to obey. 

He leaned back and pushed her thighs wide. He was staring at her center with a predatory gleam in his eyes, leaving her feeling more exposed than she’d ever been in her life. She tried to push her legs back together but his hands on her knees forced them apart again. He took himself in hand and pressed his cock to her, watching intently as the very tip disappeared past her slippery entrance. 

Bulma had severely miscalculated but it wasn’t too late to make a course correction. She could still pull away from him, leave him to suffer for a few days, maybe even a few weeks, until she could reassert her authority. The word was on the tip of her tongue. Stop. She wanted to say it. She’d intended to say it but all that came out was a quivering, “Please.”

Mercifully, he didn’t make her beg again. He pushed into her, hard, deep, until their hips mashed together. Bulma let out a sigh of relief at the sensation but Vegeta just screwed his eyes shut and clenched his jaw, making no sound that would betray how good it felt to be buried in her. He withdrew and pushed into her again, setting a rhythmic, arduous pace. Bulma tried to meet his thrusts but he had her hips in a vice grip, lifting them off the bed, pushing and pulling her in time with his own movements. 

While his hands were occupied with her lower body, his mouth dominated her above the waist. His lips latched onto her neck at the pulse point, sucking and nipping at her before moving lower, trailing the flat of his tongue down her sternum. He laved at the beads of sweat forming in the hollow between her breasts before taking one peaked nipple into his mouth, twisting and pulling at it with his teeth, holding it in place as her neglected breast bounced with every thrust. 

Bulma could hardly register any sensation other than the deep, rhythmic, pounding. Never in her life had she been fucked so vigorously, so thoroughly. She didn’t have to tell him ‘harder’ or ‘faster’. He knew exactly how to touch her, how to move inside of her, without being told. 

At first, she kept her eyes tightly shut, focusing solely on the heat building where their hips collided. She didn’t want to look at him and see the cruel grin on his face or the iron clad control he had over his own body as she burst at the seams beneath him. But as her pleasure mounted towards its peak, she realized the hands that previously dominated her hips had moved to hold her at the waist and fan through her hair. She could hear his gasping breaths and feel the clenching of his abs against the flat of her own belly.

She chanced a glimpse of him through half lidded eyes and what she saw brought her to the very brink of orgasm. He was staring at her with a single minded intensity, the look on his face halfway between bewilderment and total reverence. It was just how she pictured it. It was the herald of her victory over him.

But now, in the moment, it almost didn’t matter. The fear she’d felt before receded and her well laid plans to tame him were all but an afterthought. She’d let it all go and, when she did, she felt the world collapse from under her. She couldn’t breath. She couldn’t scream or moan or even whimper. All she could do was tremble as white hot ecstasy spread from between her legs, into her belly and and out through every nerve ending in her body. The cataclysm was so intense she almost missed it when he finally let himself go as well.

“ _Fuck_ Bulma,” he whispered, his head buried behind her ear as he shuddered above her. He bucked into her wildly, having lost the rhythm somewhere along the way. Streams of his own climax spilled into her and down to saturate the sheets below. Aftershocks of her own pleasure were still passing through when he collapsed on top of her. The weight and heat of his body felt good but was making it hard to breath. Before the sensation became uncomfortable, he rolled over with a huff, still lightly panting from the exertion. 

It took a few moments but, when he caught his breath, he looked at her again, his face much different this time. The look of awe was gone and was replaced with a side eye of contrition and maybe a little mistrust. She imagined things hadn’t gone according to plan for him either. He must have thought he was going to break her in, teach her who was boss, but he’d lost control at some point. They’d both jumped in head first pre-supposing, if not demanding total submission from the other. Neither had gotten what they wanted. She felt the tingling of lust creeping back up, coiling in her loins again. She wasn’t finished with him yet and she wouldn’t be until there was a clear winner.

He lifted himself out of her bed but she wound her hands into his hair and around his neck, pulling him back into bed with her. He didn’t put up any resistance. Instead he bent over her and kissed her. It was something they’d neglected to do during the act but, now that the urgency had passed, she could feel how soft his lips were. She wanted him again, now, but he untangled himself and disengaged from her mouth with a nip to her lower lip.

“You are a vulgar, wicked, insatiable woman.”

“Am not.”

“Did you think you were debauching me? Is that what gets you going?”

Her cheeks flushed, now confronted with her ridiculous supposition. “Maybe.”

“In that case, you’ll have to be much more creative if you’re going to show me something I haven’t seen before.”

A glint shone Bulma’s eye as she mulled the challenge over. She rolled over and opened the drawer in her bedside table, reemerging with a tiny bottle of viscus fluid and a naughty smile on her face.

“You are a filthy little thing, aren’t you,” he said, pulling her backside to his swelling groin and positioning himself at her rear entrance.

“I don’t think so” she scolded, flipping back over and revealing the sizeable phallic replica in her other hand. “Bend over Bad Man.”

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this as practice for the upcoming lemon scenes in Purge. It’s been a long time since I wrote anything smutty and it’s harder than I remember. This may or may not remain a one shot. TPTH Smutfest is coming up and pegging is one of the prompts. I almost died when I saw it. It’s like the mods can see into my most depraved fic inspos.


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